


Right Here

by WindySuspirations



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Beware, Cullen Smut, Cunnilingus, Darkfic, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, POV Cullen Rutherford, Pining, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 11:26:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12556396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindySuspirations/pseuds/WindySuspirations
Summary: "He’d expected to keep her in this room with him for the next three days, making love to her over and over until neither of them could stand.  But since when had he ever gotten anything he wanted?"After Lavellan takes up with Cullen post Corypheus, she leaves him for Solas during the events of Trespasser. Cullen does not take it well.





	Right Here

**Author's Note:**

> The tags do not lie. If you are a sensitive reader, please do not read this fic.
> 
> I am trying to get better at showing emotions through actions and reactions. I am also to cut down on my literalness, which is a major struggle for me. 
> 
> I have also been on an angst-kick for a while, and this is the result of that. Kudos and comments are appreciated, as always.

**15 Bloomingtide, 9:44 – Winter Palace, Orlais**

**22 bells**

The only light in the room comes from the moonlight spilling through the open balcony doors, casting white rectangles on the floor, illuminating the red military jacket and shirt he’d carelessly dropped there.  Cullen sits on the end of the bed, a glass of whiskey clutched in one hand, eyes staring off into nothing, his unoccupied fist clenching and unclenching reflexively.

He curses himself for a thrice-born fool. But then, he’s never been smart when it comes to women and relationships. He can plan battle strategies all day, decide on how to make the best use of limited resources, but on the softer matters of love, he’s clueless.

Ellana. Even now, just the thought of her makes his heart stutter. A vise tightens around his chest, and it’s hard for him to breathe.Wetness prickles at his eyelids, but the tears won't come. He closes his eyes and wishes she were with him now.

* * *

 

**8 Cloudreach, 9:42 - Skyhold**

She comes to him dressed in practically nothing at all, her red hair flowing over her pale shoulders, her bare feet making almost no noise on the wooden floor of his loft.

“Ellana,” he says when she climbs into bed with him. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

She straddles him and starts running her fingers over his chest and stomach. His skin tingles where she touches him. He closes his eyes and fights back a moan as her hands slide lower and brush his rapidly hardening cock.

 “I know you want me, Commander,” her hot breath scorches his lips as she leans down to hover her lips over his. “I see you watching me — I’ve always known you wanted me.”

Her lips cover his then, and he’s lost. He moans as his hands come around to cup the back of her head,  tilting her head so he can deepen the kiss. Teeth grind together, tongues slip past lips, and his head is swimming with her.

Her unfettered breasts rub against his chest, with only the thin fabric of her gown between them and he’s consumed with the desire to feel her bare skin on his. Frenzied fingers push down the thin straps of her nightdress, and she moans into his mouth when his hand finds a bare breast, his thumb rubbing a taut nipple. Her hands fist in his hair and her kisses become frantic, almost angry.

“Hey,” he says, disengaging from her and sitting back so he can look at her face. Tears are running down her cheeks, and she looks so damn vulnerable sitting there, all huge green eyes and with her the top of her gown falling off her shoulders. And yet, the slight curves of her body and her pale skin, lit as they are in the glow of the candles fire his passions so; it’s all he can do not to push her down and take her right then. Instead, he summons his control and manages in a husky voice, “What’s the matter, love?”

Her face crumples, and she collapses into his arms, sobbing against his chest. Eyes widening, Cullen cradles her against him. He brushes her hair back and murmurs nonsense words of comfort; he hopes they are soothing for her. It’s all he can think to do, because  Maker, he’s so out of his depth here.

“Where did he go?” she cries, lifting her face off his chest to look at him. “Why did he leave me?”

Cullen schools his features so that he doesn’t frighten her, but he can’t help the way every muscle in his body tightens as his gut burns. That bastard apostate — how could he do this to her? Abandon her like this, without a word? If the blighter were here now, he’d plant a fist in his smug, know-it-all face. By the Maker, if this incredible woman were his, he would never leave her side. He would make it his mission in life to make her happy. It’s what she deserved, damn it!

His arms tighten around her, and he brushes his lips against her hair. What can he say? Platitudes about how she’d get over him in time? How he is here now and ready to be what she needed? No. He can’t say any of that. So, he just holds her instead, lets her cry herself to sleep and then curls up beside her as sleep claims him, too.

* * *

 

**15 Bloomingtide, 9:44 – Winter Palace, Orlais**

**Half past 22 bells**

Cullen tosses back another shot of whiskey, and a bitter laugh escapes his raw throat as his eyes roam around his surroundings. Every fucking thing about this room screams romance, from the overly plush bed to the large bathtub in the corner and the well-stocked liquor cabinet.  He’d expected to keep her in this room with him for the next three days, making love to her over and over until neither of them could stand.  But since when had he ever gotten anything he wanted?

Rising to his feet with a discontented growl, he pads barefoot to the liquor cabinet. Well, at least there’s one thing in this bloody room that he can use  —  he pours himself another finger of the strong spirits.  Cullen swirls the bottle in his hand and sneers at it — the fucking thing is already half-empty, and he’s not nearly numb enough. Sodding Orlesians and their idea of strong drink.

Sighing, he rolls his aching shoulders and twists his neck from side to side as he wanders out on the balcony, glass dangling from one hand. Leaning on the balcony, he looks out over the manicured grounds of the Winter Palace. He raises the glass to his lips and takes a drink. From somewhere down below, the sounds of tittering laughter float up to him on the warm late-spring breeze. Lovers, most likely, out for a stroll. It’s a fine night for it, too. He lifts his glass in a toast to the invisible couple before downing its contents in a single gulp.

* * *

 

**25 Bloomingtide, 9:43 - Skyhold**

He loves this time of year, loves how the mountain air smells of new pines combined with the redolent scent of jasmine from the vines she insisted on cultivating all around the old fortress.

He’s standing on the bridge leading to the rotunda from his office, breathing in the fresh air and watching the change of the guard. It’s late, but he’s not tired enough to go to bed. He lifts his head to look up at the Inquisitor's tower and smiles. He thinks that she’ll come to him soon, thinks that she’ll be ready to take the next steps in their evolving relationship.

Although it had taken the better part of the last year, her sadness over that fucking bastard elf’s abandonment has finally lifted. She’s smiling now more often than not, laughing at his stupid jokes, and driving him to distraction with her kisses and open affection.

“Cullen,” says a soft husky voice.

He turns to the right to see his beautiful Ellana. She smiles at him, and he wobbles on his feet as all of the blood in his body races south, and his heart starts thundering in his chest. Void take him, will he ever stop reacting to her like an untried lad?

“Ellana.” He inclines his head politely, even though what he really wants is to kiss her senseless and when he’s had his fill of her mouth,  to bear her down to the stone floor of this bridge. He aches to show her how much he loves her with his mouth, fingers, and tongue.

She cocks her head and watches him silently for a moment before she speaks, a sultry smile stretching her lips. “I wanted to invite you up to my rooms for a nightcap. That is if you were so inclined.”

His stomach drops to the floor, and he clears his throat to buy himself some time to collect himself. “I –I’d love to,” he manages to get out over his rapidly beating heart which seems to have lodged in his throat.

“Come, then.” She turns and starts sashaying back the way she had evidently come, through the door to the rotunda. He follows along, his blood singing in his veins. He can’t stop grinning like a madman — she’s going to give herself to him tonight — Maker,  he’s been praying, hoping for this for so damn long.

Her rooms are dark, save for the flickering light from a few candles scattered here and there about and the glow from the banked coals burning in the large fireplace along the far wall. He follows her as she pads to the open balcony doors and steps outside. The moons are full tonight, bathing the balcony in a soft white light and a multitude of stars twinkle in the black canopy of the night sky.

It’s perfect; he could have hoped for no better setting and time for their first time together.

Cullen steps behind her and pulls her back against him, his head dropping to kiss her neck. He inhales her scent and hums against her skin as his kisses trail up her jaw. Her skin is so soft;  he wants to explore every inch of her. He tilts her head back and to the side, so he can capture her lips in a soft kiss, his other hand sliding up her abdomen to cup her breast, his thumb flicking the point of one nipple poking through the fabric of her gown.

He inhales sharply as she melts against him and tilts her head back to deepen the kiss, dragging her tongue against his. His cock, half-erect already, hardens the rest of the way and his breathing hitches as she rubs her ass against it. She opens up to him like a flower spreading its petals to bathe in the sun’s warmth, and he takes everything she offers him, his hand sliding under the material of her gown to palm a bare breast while sucking on her upper lip. His head is spinning, and even the loose pants he wears are far too tight.

She drags her mouth away, and he almost cries out at the loss of it, but then, she’s turning in his arms and standing on tiptoe to reach his lips. He smirks and bends his head to meet her the rest of the way and their mouths collide again. His heart is thrumming wildly in his chest, and his focus narrows to just her; her hands in his hair, the feeling of her body pressed against his. He abandons her mouth and starts kissing down her jaw, and when he gets to her upper chest, he slides her gown off her shoulders to bare her torso.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, looking down at her small firm breasts. He cups one in his hand and leans down to kiss it. Sweet Maker, he’s waited to do this for so long. Her skin smells of citrus and spice, earthy and exotic. He wants to drown in it, to drown in her. She gasps as he plays with her nipples, arching into him, her breathing roughening to match his harsh exhalations. He catches her eyes, raising an eyebrow in question.”I would see all of you, my lady. May I?”

She smiles and nods her head.  He leans down to kiss her mouth before pushing her dress the rest of the way down until it falls into a white pool of fabric at her feet. His heart stops, then takes off, beating crazily in his chest and his lower body tightens as he beholds her completely bare body for the first time. Maker, she is perfection itself, ethereal and earthy at the same time. The moonlight gilds her pale skin in a soft glow, outlining the spill of her red hair in the cool fire.

Reverently, he drops to his knees and runs his fingers down her slim, almost boyish hips. She’s so delicate that he is almost afraid to touch her for fear of hurting her. He runs his hands down her sides as he kisses the taut skin of her flat belly. He moves lower, thrilling at the way she shudders under his touch.

_Oh, yes, Ellana. I am going to love you like no other man ever has._

The slide of his calloused fingers on her skin tickles his ears as he arrives at her bare mound and the elegant pink cleft between her legs.

“Ellana,” he rasps, transfixed, “I have to — I need to —“

Bending his head, he parts her legs and with one hand on her ass, he pushes her toward him, driving her quim into his mouth. He traces a line of her slit with his tongue, tasting her cream, her musk stronger here. Maker, she’s so wet already. He moans against her — the way she tastes is — he can’t describe it, she’s like no woman he has ever tasted before. Her flavor tingles on his tongue and goes straight to his cock, which throbs painfully between his legs. How is he expected to last when she is so fucking enticing?

He brings his hands around to part her lips with his thumbs, and there, at the apex of her inner lips is her clit, already swollen with want. He hovers his lips over it, just blowing soft puffs of air on it. He smiles as her breathing hitches, and her hands come down to fist in his hair.

“ _Sathan_ , Cullen, _sathan dava ‘ma edhas_!”

Cullen chuckles. He might not know exactly what that means, but he has a good idea. He closes his lips around her and creates a gentle suction, and she rewards him by bucking her hips and mewling loudly. His body shudders at the sound, his cock leaking precome in a continuous stream now. Dragging his thumb along her entrance, he slides first two fingers, then three inside her as he continues to work her clit with his mouth.

“ _Sathan, ‘ma ’haurasha_.” She tremors and thrusts herself into his face, grinding herself against his chin and mouth. She’s making a mess; she’s getting her juices all over his lower face, mixing them with his saliva until his stubble is coated with it. But he doesn’t give a fuck about that. No, Ser. He just thrusts his fingers in deeper and speeds up the motions of his mouth and tongue on her nub. He wants to make her come apart around his face, wants to taste her pleasure on his tongue.  “ _E, ma vheraan, rosa’da’din_!” she cries as she clenches around his fingers and starts spasming as she comes.

He continues his ministrations, and she comes twice more before he can’t take it anymore. He gets to his feet, and lifts her up, encouraging her to wrap her long, lean legs around his waist.  His mouth covers hers in a fierce kiss, allowing her to taste herself on his lips. She moans and kisses him back, licking his lips. He’s never felt like this with anyone else like he’s going to explode. His entire body is on the edge of falling, nerves burning and muscles knotting.

Ellana whines in protest when he pulls his mouth away and moves to her delicately pointed ear. “Someday, you’ll tell me what all that means,” he whispers as he drops his pants. He groans as his naked cock comes in contact with her wet cunt,” but now I must have you, love, for you have me so wound up that I swear I am near to coming in my pants, untouched.”

She caresses his face with one hand while the other rakes through his blond curls. Her green eyes are soft and unfocused with passion. “ _Ar lath ‘ma vheraan_. _Lasa em tua rosas’da’din.”_ His  cock jerks and his eyes almost roll back in his head

_Fuck. Who would have thought the Elvhen language would be so damn hot?_

Cullen grips himself with one hand and positions his cock below her entrance, then bites his lip as he slips inside her. He shuts his eyes, and a long moan leaves him. “Maker, you are so tight… feel so fucking good.” The last word becomes a drawn-out groan as she starts squeezing his cock with her inner walls.  His balls tighten, the pressure building in his lower body. Damn, he’s close, too close with the magic she is working on him, but he is determined to bring her off once more before he lets himself go.

Fitting a hand between them, he finds her clit and beings rubbing it in circles and flicking it with his thumb. She arches her back and clenches down on him. Maker, she’s so slick, he’ll slide completely out if he’s not careful.  She pulses around him with the beginnings of another release, and his control slips ever lower. He drags his mouth down the side of her face, breathing harshly into her ear.

“Sweetheart, I need you to — ah!” a spasm rips through him, “to come for me. Please —“ and just as the first tendrils of his orgasm shot through his lower body, she tightens around him and howls out his name as she came.

“Cullen! _Lasa em tua rosas’da’din!”_ Ellana urges as she wraps her body around him, and finally, he lets himself go.  He curses as his hips lose all rhythm and he empties himself inside her, unintelligible sounds melding with his low groans of completion.

Later,  he lies with her in her large bed. She is curled up against him, her face tucked into the crook of his neck. Drowsy in the aftermath of their passion, he’s too tired to do anything more than hold her.

“I love you, Ellana,” he whispers before closing his eyes and falling asleep.

* * *

 

**15 Bloomingtide, 9:44 – Winter Palace, Orlais**

**10 bells**

Love chokes him as he watches her petting the big dog, giggling as the mabari rolls over for her to scratch his belly. She’s radiant, pale skin glowing in the morning sunlight which bathes the stones in the front courtyard of the palace.  His chest aches with longing and he can scarce draw breath.

“Marry me,” he blunders out the words he’s been longing to tell her for the past year. Her head snaps around to look at him, and heat flares in his cheeks and climbs the back of his neck.

“What?”

“I mean, will you …” he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “…I had a plan…and there wasn’t a dog. But you were…” he sighs again in exasperation with his fumbling.  “Ah, it doesn’t matter. I’ve thought of little else, and I don’t need a plan. Only to know if you would…”

Her lovely face creases with a smile as she jumps into his arms “Yes, Cullen, I will,” she tells him before kissing him. His muscles relax as he crushes her to him, a huge smile wreathing his face. She said yes!  

* * *

 

**15 Bloomingtide, 9:44 – Winter Palace, Orlais**

**12 bells**

She’s a vision in white, red hair swept up in a bun, which bares the sweep of her long slender neck and her elegant pointed ears. She stands beside him before Revered Mother Giselle and smiles up at him with that sweet expression that always brings him to his knees.  He has to pinch himself to make sure this is real — that this woman is about to become his wife. 

Seconds later, they are repeating their vows, and his heart is beating so fast that he thinks he might pass out.  It’s happening. She is finally completely and totally his.

“Just know that everything was worth fighting for,” he tells her before lowering his head to kiss her. And Maker, never had a kiss tasted so sweet. He laughs and picks her up to whirl her around as he kisses her again, his heart full to bursting.

* * *

 

**15 Bloomingtide, 9:44 – Winter Palace, Orlais**

**13 bells**

She’s running toward him, her red hair coming loose from her bun, the sun setting fire to the strands haloing her face.

“There you are,” he says, and he’s grinning like a fool. “I just realized I’m greeting my wife. I rather like this.” He rises from his crouched position from which he has been petting his mabari and pulls her into his embrace, uncaring who is watching them. Her stiff posture tells him something is wrong — well, other than the Qunari plot and the Exalted Council breathing down their necks.Apprehension clogs his throat as he asks “What’s wrong, love?”

 “Solas is involved.”

She refuses to meet his eyes, and a cold tingle races up his spine at the mention of her former lover. He catches her chin and forces her face up so that he could look at her. She looks stricken, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She looks just like she did following the defeat of Corypheus after Solas had disappeared, and it makes his heart hurt.  He draws her close again and tucks her head into the crook of his neck.

They stand like that for a while without exchanging a word. He just holds her and rubs her back as he inhales her scent. What could he say? He knows he’s her second choice. He knows she would not be his wife right now if Solas had never left. Cullen closes his eyes and reigns in the desire to find and throttle that fucking apostate.

Instead, he straightens and presses a kiss against her hair.“I love you. And I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

Ellana leans back and gives him a tremulous smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I know you do.” She pulls away and sighs. “I should get back. My team is waiting for me.”

“W-would you like me to come with you?”

 “No. It’s best if you do not.”  He winces because although he knows that would be her answer, it kills him to let her go. Then, she raises her hand to caress his cheek,“Goodbye, Commander.”

He grabs her hand and turns his face to plant a kiss in her palm. “Stay safe,” he growls, “that’s an order from your Commander. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

She just nods once and walks away without another word or glance back.

* * *

 

**15 Bloomingtide, 9:44 – Winter Palace, Orlais**

**Quarter past 23 bells**

Cullen lies stripped naked in what should have been his marriage bed, eyes closed as he contemplates what he’s about to do.  The cool air from the open balcony prickles his skin, raising goosebumps, but he doesn’t shiver. The pain that consumes is still present, but it’s muted now, stuffed into the back corners of his heart. He opens his eyes and glances at the fancy Orlesian clock on the fireplace mantle.  It’s time. He sits up, pulling the lyrium kit closer to him on the bed.

Opening the lid, he gathers what he needs from inside and prepares his dose. He carefully measures out some blue powder into a spoon and leaning over, he grabs a glass of water from the nightstand and adds some to the powder. The motions are practiced,  still effortless even after three years. Switching the glass for a stubby candle, he hovers the spoon over the flame, watching as the powder dissolves. Cullen’s mouth waters as he anticipates the relief he’ll feel once the blue is pumping through his veins.

He glances at the letter he’d left propped up on the nightstand.  His family will be provided for, he’s made sure of that. A pang hits him in the chest when he thinks of how they will react to the news, and he almost reconsiders. But no. He’s made the right choice.

The mabari whines apprehensively at the foot of the bed. “Oh, don’t fret, lad,” he tells the dog. “ I’ve provided for you, too. My family will love you.”

Turning back to his lyrium kit, he picks up the injector and fills it up with the unnaturally blue contents of the spoon and sets it aside.   Taking up a length of fabric, he skillfully ties it around his right bicep and makes a fist several times until his vein pops just under the skin of the crease in his arm. Lifting the injector, he positions it in place and stabs it into his vein. 

“Oh, Maker,” he breathes.

Stretching out on the bed, he lets the injector fall to his side, and unties the tourniquet, sighing as the euphoria of the drug washes over him. It has been so long since he’s felt this — his racing heart, the tingle all over his skin. Maker, how he has missed it. Then he remembers Ellana’s beautiful face.

_It’s always been too much to ask, hasn’t it, love?_

Cullen Rutherford closes his eyes and lets the lyrium carry him away, his breathing coming slower and slower. He doesn’t feel the bed creak as the big dog jumps up and curls up at his side. Nor does he feel him settle his head on his chest and whine mournfully into the still night.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the heavy angst. I will try and write something fluffy and sexy next. 
> 
> Thanks go to [Project Elvhen ](https://archiveofourown.org/series/229061) for the Elvhen used in this piece.


End file.
